Unremarkable (Anything But) (2 page)

He didn’t really miss her;
Ryder was surprised by that. Shouldn’t he miss the woman that gave him life? In the last two and a half years, the woman he knew as his mother had disappeared, left him. He didn’t know the woman who vaguely resembled her—the woman with her ever-present wine in hand and vacant eyes who slept more hours than she didn’t. His mom was as good as dead, like his father. His dad he missed. Every day he missed the sound of his voice, his laughter that rumbled like a thunderstorm of mirth. His chest tightened and Ryder shook the pain away.

It was July in Orchardville, Iowa. The air was stifling hot and thick with humidity. Each breath Ryder inhaled was choking, not anywhere near a reprieve like it should be. Sweat dampened his dark blond hair and trickled down his face and back, making the light tee shirt and jeans he wore uncomfortable. He assumed the proper stance and lined up his weapon with the target and let off a round, the power of the gun thrilling. Each bullet had a name and the name was August. 

His insides were hollowed out with guilt. Ryder had no one and nothing, nothing but this UDK taint and the burning need to prove to himself that he wasn’t bad, that he could somehow make a difference. To prove that he could avenge Honor and what had been done to her, even if it had been by his own hand. He had to redeem himself, and if that wasn’t possible, he had to at least try.

Working himself beyond his capabilities was how he was going about it. He trained hard, mentally and physically. A machine bent on vengeance was what he strove to be. That’s all he’d thought about for the last six months. The charade of sucking up to Superior August and the UDK society was wearing on him, but he had to keep doing it. Otherwise it was all for nothing—all the loss, all the pain, all the lies—it had to be for something.

“Good job, Delagrave. You hit the target each time.” His instructor, Agent Wallace, clapped him on the back. “Next time try to get it in the center of the target, your aim was a little high.”

He set down his earmuffs and gun, saying, “I wasn’t aiming for the center of the target.”

Wallace’s eyes narrowed as he looked at Ryder. He was in his mid-forties with black crew-cut hair and a thick, bulging neck. He glanced at the target and then back at Ryder with a frown on his face.

“
I hit my mark.” Ryder ambled away, a cocky grin on his lips. He’d hit his target every time—center of the forehead, right where he’d aimed.

As soon as he left the shooting range, the grin dissipated. Superior August was waiting for him. Squinting his eyes against the sun, Ryder warily approached the man he’d once thought a mentor and now viewed an enemy.

“Nice shooting, son.” He clapped him on the back and Ryder fought not to recoil from his touch and his ‘son’ reference. Once he’d basked in the endearment; now it seemed like an unwanted brand, something that linked him and August as one. He no longer wanted that connection—
any
connection—to Superior August.

“
Thank you, sir.” The ground was uneven and hilly, the trek back to the facility an especially long one under the fiery sky. Trees surrounded them on all sides, the smell of moist grass and dirt thick in the air. It would be a perfect haven, if not for the bulging monstrosity of a building in the middle of it all.

“
You keep overachieving as you are and in no time you’ll be ranked Agent Delagrave.”

“
That’s the plan.”

Superior August rubbed his square jaw as they walked, musing, “One would almost think you have an ulterior motive, pushing yourself as you are.”

Every part of Ryder chilled, a strange feeling with the sun beating down on him as it was. “Of course I do,” he said with a smirk. “I want to be Superior, like you.”

Head tipped back as he laughed, August said, “Keep pushing yourself like you are and you will, son, you will. You’ve got the makings to be a great Superior.”

Those words made him feel sick. It was an insult that anything about him could be portrayed as ‘great Superior’ material. But then, his previous, misguided actions had made it all possible.
No one to blame but yourself.

“
When can I transfer back to the Wisconsin facility?”

A bird swooped past as they began down the dirt trail that connected the wooded area to the training center. Ryder paused so August could go around him down the narrow path.

“You’re not. There’s no reason for you to. This is one of the best centers in the United States, much better than the Wisconsin one. You won’t get what you need there.”

Ryder swallowed, swiping a drop of sweat from his brow. He stared at August’s square-shaped head and imagined putting a bullet through it. At first the thought shocked him, but he quickly embraced it. It had to be done, eventually. He might as well adapt to the idea.

“There’s nothing for you there,” August continued.

“
My mom—”

He glanced over his shoulder. “Your mom is no good to you now, Ryder. You know that. Don’t beat yourself up over what you
want
, because what you want and what you need are two very different things. You
want
your mother, but you don’t
need
her.

“
And if you’re honest with yourself, you’ll realize you don’t even really want her that much anymore either. She’s broken. We remove the broken pieces from our lives, son, so that they don’t break us along with them. You’ll learn. You’re already learning.”

Hands fisted at his sides, he struggled for the control he felt slipping away. Honor. He was talking about Honor. The sick feeling escalated until it was hard to breathe.

August paused, turning partially to look at Ryder. “You did the right thing, shooting that UDK. She was damaged, broken. She wasn’t right for the cause. She was a sympathizer. Sympathizers are just as bad as UDs.”

Most days he tried to forget what he’d done, but as the days since he’d shot Honor Rochester had grown, so had his self-hatred. He’d shot and killed an innocent girl—a girl with more courage than he’d ever had.

Bile rose in his throat and he choked it down. He felt so lost, like he was floundering in the middle of an ocean with no rescue in sight. The only thing that kept him going was what he had designated as his purpose—that was it.

Those ice blue eyes drilled into his green ones, trying to see inside his head, wanting to know his thoughts. “You don’t regret what you did, do you, son?”

With every breath I take.

“
No. It had to be done,” he said in a toneless voice.

Superior August nodded brusquely. “That’s right. It did. Get some grub. We’ll talk later.”

It wasn’t until Ryder got to his room that he was able to let the pain out. He slammed his fist into the cement wall, again and again and again, until his knuckles cracked and were bleeding, until his breaths came out ragged, until his heart raced so fast he wondered if it would just stop, until he’d punished himself for taking someone’s, Honor’s, life. It wasn’t enough, would never be enough.

Chest heaving, he stood in the middle of the room, forcing his breaths to steady, his pulse to slow down to normal. Ryder closed his eyes, exhaling slowly. He grabbed a washcloth from the shelf near the sink and wet it with water from the faucet. Calmly, numbly, he wiped the wall clean of blood, but he knew he could never wipe clean the blood of a life taken by his hand from his soul. That was tattooed there, forever.

Honor’s mind was stuck on
something August had said—about the UDKs rejecting UD blood. It wasn’t necessarily an alarming statement, but coming from him, it made waves of chills go through her. Honor didn’t know much about him—she didn’t even know enough to feel the way she did about him, not really.

She had suspicions and intuitions; all of which were telling her he was one to be extremely wary of. He hinted at his true character; he alluded to acts of immorality, manipulation, and deception without outright confessing anything. All that added up to her fear of what he’d meant by that statement.
Test subjects
pounded through her head continually, making her more nauseous than she already was. 

What had changed inside her body and why? She didn’t feel any different. Could Superior August be lying? But then why keep her alive? He would have finished her off if he had no purpose for her. She almost wished he had. Almost. Self-preservation was a strange thing and Honor’s was more than adequate. Death would not be finding her anytime soon, not if she could stop it.

Time had no purpose in a room without clocks, in a room she was caged in, locked down in. She had no idea what day it was, what time it was,
nothing
. The lights never shut off, and Honor drifted in and out of consciousness; unable to keep track of how many minutes were passing from one blackout to the next. It seemed like it had been hours, maybe days, since August’s visit. And why wasn’t she hungry or thirsty? Whose blood was pumping through her veins?

Have to get out of here, have to get out of here, have to get out of here
thrummed through her head, her heart pounding along to the words. No matter how she pulled, shifted her body, or tugged, the restraints would not budge. All she accomplished was tiring herself out; mentally more than physically.

Honor froze as a faint
clank
sounded and then the familiar sound of air colliding with air signaled the opening of the door behind her. She thought of closing her eyes, but couldn’t force a cowardice she didn’t feel. Whoever it was, Honor wanted to meet their eyes when they showed themselves. Her breaths were shallow and short as she waited. The eyes that looked into hers were blue; the face looming above hers determined and familiar. Relief swam through her, turning her body limp.

A finger rose to his mouth and Honor gave a short nod.

“Be right back,” he mouthed, ducking out of view.

She lifted her head, trying to see him as he worked. The bonds on her wrists and legs tugged and were suddenly gone. She moved to sit up, expecting pain in her abdomen and experiencing nothing but a light tugging sensation. Honor looked down at her stomach, beginning to lift the white tee shirt to examine the flesh beneath it.

An abrupt head shake stilled her hands. She was grabbed by the arms and hoisted down, her legs wobbly from disuse. A thick arm looped under hers as he escorted her toward the door. Honor opened her mouth, and as though able to sense her every thought, he widened his eyes and shook his brown-haired head. She straightened, not needing his support.

“
Follow me,” he mouthed next.

With a nod she did—down a cold, blank hallway. It was eerie how silent and empty it was in the facility. Honor’s footsteps faltered as they passed by the room she stayed in during the UDK training. A disturbing sense of homesickness swept over her, causing her to frown. It made sense, she supposed. That was what she had known as her life, as recently as six months ago. It was the last life she remembered, even if it was no longer hers to have.

What am I? Fugitive
trickled through her mind—among other things—but that one was for sure.

Shouts drew her attention forward and she saw him remove a gun from a hip holster and point it toward a mass of robots—not the literal ones, but the UDK mindless beings that explicitly followed orders, no matter what.

He glanced over his shoulder at her, gun raised. “Get back!”

That weapon could be turned on her in a heartbeat. Once she would have worried about that from him, but at the moment she didn’t even think to not trust him. It was him or August. Not much thought was involved in that decision. Honor had no weapon to defend herself with, but as the men swarmed toward them, shouting at them to stop and for him to drop his weapon as they aimed their own pistols at them, she moved without conscious decision, right into their line of fire and in front of her rescuer.

“What are you doing?” he yelled at her, ineffectively grabbing at her arm to tug her back behind him.

It was weird—he had to outweigh her by a hundred pounds or more—and she wasn’t moving. That barely registered in her head when the shots rained their way; short pinging bursts that would kill him if one hit him. Oddly enough, she didn't worry about herself getting hit by a bullet or the possibility of
her
death. Been there, done that.

Honor spun around to face him. “Give me your gun.”

“What?” His eyes were incredulous, frustration tightening his features.

“
Give it to me.
Now
.” She could see the indecision in his face. Honor leaned close to his ear, her eyes never leaving his. “You will die if you don’t give me your gun.”

With a curse word, he held it out.

She took it, smiling savagely, and grabbed his wrist with her other hand, propelling him forward. A bullet zinged past her ear and she ducked, really hoping he ducked too. His police officer training should keep him alive, as long as he wasn’t an unlucky kind of guy. Of course, looking at the situation they were in, that might be exactly what he was—unlucky.

Blood pumped through her veins, but she was cold, calm, her eyes taking in the scene in a detached way. Honor noted the three guys charging in front, the one toward the back, and the one creeping toward them from the left. She took aim from left to right, hitting and disarming every single one of them. Cries of pain broke out as they fell. She heard him curse again, in shock this time, and another smile formed to her lips.

“Where—what—how—”

Sprinting across the vast room that used to hold sermons and such, Honor shouted over her shoulder, “We don’t have time for meaningful conversations at the moment!”

“What are you?” he hollered back, face red as he pumped his arms and legs to keep up with her.

At the sliding door, Honor slapped her hand against the wall and it glided open with a swoosh. So close. They were so close to freedom. Freedom: the word sounded like a lie to her. Would she ever be free again? Had she ever really been? One more room to go through and they would be outside. Eyes scanning the white-walled room with the scuffed floor, Honor straightened from her ready pose, unease moving down her back. It was empty. It was almost too easy.

“Where is everyone?”

“
Do you really want to find out?”

“
No.” She swiped hair from her face. “Let’s go.”

“
Can I have my gun back now?”

Honor reached out her hand, pausing. “How do I know I can trust you?”

“I just saved your butt—”

“
No. I saved
yours
.”

“
I would have been fine,” he grumbled.

“
Is your masculinity chaffing a bit?” She offered the gun and he yanked it from her grip, scowling.

“
Let’s go.”

“
Yes, sir.”

Out into the bright sun they went, Honor blinking as it hit her sensitive eyes. The lilac scent was overpowering, cloying. Tree limbs bent and twisted as a strong warm breeze swept by, sending her hair flying around her face in a black mask. She spit hair out of her mouth and followed her rescuer in the direction of a black Nissan.

“You know what I find funny?” she said to his broad back.

“
How can you find
anything
about this funny?” he muttered as he jogged on the gravel surrounding the church turned UDK facility.

As he opened the back door, Honor said, “You were the one who put me in this place and you were the one to get me out.” She smirked. “Talley.”

“Get in,” was his brusque reply.

She started to when a deep voice, rough enough to cause goose bumps to break out on her flesh, snapped, “Are you done socializing? Because I’d like to get out of here before we’re all killed. For real, this time.” She froze stooped over, her stinging eyes on the floorboards of the car. Her breaths became ragged, painful.

“That means you, Rochester,” he added when she stayed immobile.

Head jerking upward, Honor tried to see his features, but her vision was too blurry. Talley pushed her none-too-gently into the back of the car, the momentum causing her to sprawl face-down on the backseat. She wasn’t even sitting upright before they were squealing out of the parking lot.

“I thought you were dead,” she said to the hands clasped tightly together in her lap.

“
Yeah, well, I thought the same about you.”

She dragged her eyes from her lap and met tormented brown ones in the rearview mirror. The shared look was long—so lengthy Talley cleared his throat uncomfortably. Her gaze traveled down the short brown hair to the shell-shaped ear, and stopped on the square shoulder that was stiff, taut. Even with his face straight ahead, she know he was tight-lipped, his features blank. That was the way Nealon always was. Why would this day be any different? But the look she’d witnessed in his eyes—that was something new.